


Dangerous Angels

by pocketmumbles (livelikejack)



Series: Wolf Moon 'verse [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-14 23:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2206260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livelikejack/pseuds/pocketmumbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison regrets sending the email almost immediately after she clicks Send. It’s so stupid. He’s a cool guy in high school, why would he want to be friends with a ten-year-old girl he met once at a stupid freaking carnival?</p>
<p>She’s so stupid. She’s just a dumb, silly little girl. No wonder she doesn’t have any friends.</p>
<p>(Or, the one where Allison grows up and finds a completely new family in some tiny little town in NorCal. Allison-centric character expansion in the Wolf Moon 'verse. See notes for minor ships.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dangerous Angels

**Author's Note:**

> Minor ships, in chronological order: **Allison/Scott, Allison/Kira, Jackson/Lydia** (mentioned), **Lydia/Stiles** (mentioned), **past Allison/Isaac** (mentioned), **Derek/Scott** (mentioned). Basically, any applicable ships from _Wolf Moon_.
> 
> I just realized this one is decidedly unfunny compared to the other pieces in the ‘verse so far. Sorry.
> 
> Fic title is from _Dangerous Angels_ by Francesca Lia Block, and the lines, “love is a dangerous angel”/“I don’t know about happily ever after, but I know about happily,” are from its first story.
> 
> There are the barest of timestamps in this fic, but the stories are in chronological order (the last takes place between _Wolf Moon_ and _Great Scott!_ ). Kate’s postcards are from Allison’s childhood, randomly ordered, before she went to jail.

     

Allison regrets sending the email almost immediately after she clicks Send. It’s so stupid. He’s a cool guy in high school, why would he want to be friends with a ten-year-old girl he met once at a stupid freaking _carnival?_

She’s so stupid. She’s just a dumb, silly little girl. No wonder she doesn’t have any friends. She shuts down the computer, climbs into bed, and tosses and turns the rest of the night.

She wakes up to an email from Derek, five paragraphs long about how he’s glad she got back to him, sorry about the dumb email address, Paige and Cora say hi – detouring into an entire paragraph about how Cora didn’t _technically_ say hi, but she means it, deep down, really, little sisters are weird and mysterious creatures, does Allison have a little sister? – and finishing up by asking her where her family is now, if they’ve moved again, and finally an apology for bombarding her with questions.

She can’t stop smiling all through breakfast and her morning workout.

Derek never stops emailing her back. Even when school starts up for both of them and he’s probably busy with homework and his basketball team, he talks to her about finally being an upperclassman – like her, he says, since fourth grade is totally the elementary top tier with none of that fifth grade responsibility. Even halfway through the semester, when the novelty of someone new has surely worn off, he complains about Chem labs and his big sister, Laura, who Allison didn’t get to meet but she’d totally like her.

She wishes she had siblings. They’d be around, at least, and even if they were annoying like Derek’s sisters, they’d still be _there_. Kate’s like her super cool big sister, but she’s a lot older than Allison. Older than Derek, even, and Derek’s _old_. Plus, she comes by every few months. She’s not around all the time, or even most of the time.

But – but Derek’s around all the time, now. He’s not physically there, of course, but he’s always there to email or chat with online. It doesn’t matter if she’s in Tennessee or Arizona or Washington; he’s always there. On her eleventh birthday, she checks her email after archery practice and finds a picture of a homemade birthday cake with “HAPPY BDAY ALLY A” in blue and pink frosting. _Next time you’re in Beacon Hills I’ll make you another one_ , Derek’s email reads.

She moves from state to state and gives up on trying to make friends before she’s whisked away again. It’s okay. She has Derek. He’s always around to talk and never bothers her about training or her grades divebombing when she transfers mid-semester.

_I wish you could be my brother_ , she types, and then deletes it immediately for how stupid she sounds.

She doesn’t get why he doesn’t stop talking to her, even after her family proves to be even more secretive and messed up than before and nearly burns _his_ family and home to the ground. She doesn’t get any of that. How – she’d thought she’d known Kate. She’d known her her whole life. They’d been – sisters, practically. How could – Allison doesn’t understand any of it. She doesn’t understand why Kate betrayed Derek, and she doesn’t understand why Derek forgave Allison immediately.

She doesn’t understand a thing. She’s so stupid. Everyone she knows lies to her because she’s just too stupid to understand.

At least she knows Derek would never lie to her.

 

    

The first time Allison meets Cora Hale, the nine-year-old raises an eyebrow at her over a half-eaten funnel cone and says, “Who the hell are you?”

The second time Allison meets Cora Hale, the thirteen-year-old raises an eyebrow at her over a half-eaten cheesecake and says, “So, you’re the new me.”

Allison blinks, swallows her mouthful of cheesecake, and says, “Um. Pardon?”

“The new me,” Cora repeats, rolling her eyes and sitting down in the booth. “You know, Derek’s little sister.” She grabs a strawberry slice and pops it into her mouth. “I’d say welcome to the family, but I dunno if you wanna mix in with people like us.”

“You mean, werewolves?” Allison asks.

Kenny sighs gustily from the other side of the counter. “You guys could talk a _little_ more quietly,” he says. “I know no one else is here, but, come on.”

Cora ignores him. “It’s none of my business,” she says, “Except for how you kind of saved my family’s lives, and mine, too, that one time-”

“I didn’t save anyone’s life, I didn’t do anything, really-”

“-and more importantly, Derek’s all kinds of mopey now that you’re avoiding him,” Cora finishes. “I mean, _I_ get it. It’s a pretty world-changing revelation, knowing that there really are scary monsters who go bump in the night.” She smiles at her with a mouthful of fangs and glowing yellow eyes.

_“Cora,”_ Kenny snaps long-sufferingly.

Cora blinks, and her face is normal again – no, not normal, just human. “But he’s basically incapable of not taking things personally. He’s kind of dumb that way.”

“Derek isn’t dumb,” Allison says defensively. “He’s a very caring person, and, and he’s just very introspective, okay. He’s not _stupid_.”

“Wow, calm down,” Cora says, holding her hands up. Allison realizes that she’s risen to her feet, leaning over the table in Cora’s face, and quickly sits back down. Cora steals another strawberry off the plate. “I thought hunters were supposed to be calm, or whatever.”

She slumps back in her seat. “Well, I’m not a very good hunter.”

“Well, good.” Allison looks up in surprise and watches Cora dig into the cheesecake with her fork. “You’re, what, thirteen? ‘s not like I’m a very good werewolf yet, either. Bad at scents.”

“I’m fourteen,” Allison says, relaxing a little.

“Damn. I was looking forward to not being the youngest, anymore.” Cora finishes the cheesecake and sets the fork down. “Me and Boyd are gonna go see that weird new movie about space robots in love or whatever. You wanna come?”

“Holy crap, Cora Hale’s actually making friends,” Kenny marvels, picking up the empty plate. “Hell must be freezing over.”

“Shut up, Kenny,” Cora says with another roll of her eyes. It’s not quite annoyed, though; a little more exasperated and indulgent.“It’s just Allison. We’re not _friends_.”

It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt, not a bit, and her eyes only sting because she’s allergic to some of Beacon Hills’ flora, and she only looks down because she needs to count out bills to pay for her food. They barely know each other, after all. That’s totally fair.

But Cora nudges her leg (and bruises the hell out of her shin, but that’s okay, that’s nothing) and ducks her head into Allison’s line of sight. “We’re family.” She grins. “And Derek’s family eats for free here, isn’t that right, Kenny?”

Kenny sighs.

 

   

Lydia bounds into her room with two bulging Macy’s bags dangling from each hand. “Clear your schedule,” she says cheerfully. “This could take a while.”

_gtg_ , Allison texts Derek, and drops her Samsung Captivate onto her desk while Lydia lays out dresses onto her bed. “Are these really all for one party?” she asks.

“It’s for _your_ party,” Lydia says. “You’re turning fifteen! That’s a big deal. And since I’m hosting it, I can’t wear just one outfit the entire night. Haven’t you ever hosted a party before?”

Allison chews on her lip. “Um, no, not really,” she says, ducking her head. “My parents, they’re…well…”

“Ah,” Lydia says with a roll of her eyes. “Right. Well, the hostess can’t wear one outfit the whole night. That’s just sloppy. And _you_ can’t wear just one, either.”

“I can’t?”

Lydia arches an eyebrow and nudges the two other Macy’s bags on the floor. “Who do you think these are for?”

“Oh.” Allison eyes the bags with more than a little trepidation. She’s completely out of her depth here, looking at the dresses Lydia holds up and shrugging helplessly. Mom was a retail buyer, sometimes; she’s always kept Allison’s closet filled with clothes from her latest company’s latest style. Allison doesn’t know style. She barely knows clothes.

Lydia holds up another slim dress and raises an expectant eyebrow. “Um,” Allison says, just like she did for the past five outfits. “It looks good, I guess?”

Lydia purses her lips. “Sweetheart,” she says, “If you don’t like them, just tell me. It’s your party, after all.”

“No, I just,” Allison says quickly. She starts chewing on her thumbnail before she realizes what she’s doing and jerks it out of her mouth. Nail-biting is a terrible habit and a sign of weakness. “I just don’t really know…clothes?”

“Well, obviously. I mean, your closet looks like you went to ten different stores and grabbed whatever was hanging off the nearest mannequin. But I want to know what you think, anyway. I care about your opinion.”

“Because it’s my party,” Allison says, nodding down at the bed.

“No, because you’re my friend.”

Allison looks up. Her eyes feel itchy; she must be getting weird Beacon Hills winter allergies. “Oh,” she says. Lydia hums absently, eyes darting back and forth between two dresses in her hands. “Do you, um. Do you do this with all of your friends?”

“Do what?” Lydia asks, still scrutinizing the dresses. “This color looks better on me, but I like the beading on this one. What do you think?”

“Pick out clothes, and stuff,” Allison says. “Like, Ashley’s birthday is next week, and she’s your friend, too-”

“Ah, no.” Lydia lowers the hangers. “I’m Ashley’s friend – I’m everyone’s friend – but she isn’t _my_ friend. There’s a difference.”

“Oh.”

“Mm-hm.” She holds up the hangers again. “So, which one?”

Lydia said she’s her friend. She doesn’t know anything about clothes, or parties, or even friends, but Lydia said she’s her friend. She looks carefully between the two dresses. “That one,” she says, pointing at the one in Lydia’s left hand. “It goes great with your hair.”

Lydia beams. “Good, I like that one better, too.” Her purse buzzes, and she huffs, putting the dresses down and digging out her HTC phone. “Ugh, Jackson wants me to come over.” She taps out a quick reply and tosses it back into her purse with a roll of her eyes. “Now, as I was saying-”

“You’re not gonna go hang out with him?” Allison asks.

Lydia shifts the dresses into a neat pile and drops another Macy’s bag onto the bed. “We haven’t figured out what you’re doing to wear, yet,” she says reasonably. “It’s just Jackson.”

“But he’s your boyfriend.”

“But you’re my _best_ friend,” Lydia counters. She blinks for a moment, as if startled by her own words, then recovers. “And you need all the help you can get when it comes to clothes, Allison, it’s like your mom never taught you a thing.”

Mom taught her plenty. Just not this. “I’m no good at this stuff,” Allison says, shuffling over to the bed and helping Lydia lay out dresses.

“No kidding.”

“I, uh.” She bites her lip. “I’ve never really had a best friend before, either.”

Lydia carefully lays the last dress onto the bed and smooths it with her hands before meeting Allison’s eyes. “Me, neither.”

 

   

Belladonna says, “You know, I never did thank you for teaching me archery.” Then she draws her bow and fires an arrow into the center of the bullseye.

She doesn’t actually say thank you, but Allison gets it. “I didn’t teach you much,” she says. “You already knew the basics from your dad.”

“Yeah, sure, enough that I didn’t make a fool out of myself with a kiddie bow on Halloween,” Belladonna snorts. “Stationary villainy, beware.” She tosses an apple into the air; Allison sends an arrow through it and into a target on a higher branch. “You taught me all the important stuff. Thinking like a human. Thinking like a _hunter_.”

“I didn’t-” Allison protests, then gives up. They’ve trained together for the past four years, but she’s pretty sure Belladonna’s father started teaching her to defend herself from hunters the moment the fire trucks drove away from the Hale house. “It’s the least I could do,” she says instead.

“You’re not your aunt,” Belladonna says dismissively. “It’s not your fault she turned out to be crazy. We don’t get to pick who we’re related to.”

“I just…” Allison tosses an apple for Belladonna to shoot into a target. “I grew up with her, you know? I learned so much from her. I don’t want to end up like her, one day.”

“So don’t.” Belladonna shrugs. “You’re already off to a pretty good start, rubbing elbows with us werewolves and all.”

Allison tries a half-hearted smile and shoots out the eye of a silhouette target. “Yeah, I guess.”

Belladonna shoots out the other eye, then glances at her LG phone. “Your parents’ll be heading back from the women’s facility soon,” she says carefully.

“Yeah.”

“Have you visited her at all since you found out about us?”

Allison notches two arrows and shoots; one of them grazes the silhouette’s side instead of landing in its gut. She makes a face and shoots again. Perfect. “Nope.”

“Hm.” Belladonna shoots an arrow into the white space next to the silhouette’s hip. Allison frowns at her. “The hell kind of shot was that?”

“Tail,” Belladonna says cheerfully.

Allison feels a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “The target doesn’t have a tail.”

“See, that’s just not thinking ahead. What if, one day, you have to shoot something with a tail?”

“A tail’s a limb; shooting that won’t incapacitate it,” Allison says automatically. “Better to aim for the torso. It’s a larger target with vital organs.”

“Yeah, but how often do you get to say you shot something in the tail.”

Allison snorts, ducking her head as a smile breaks onto her face. “Okay, that’s true.”

“Yes, it is,” Belladonna affirms. They toss each other apples and pull off increasingly impractical shots until they fall over into the leaves from laughing.

Allison’s Samsung Captivate buzzes, and she sees a text from her mother telling her that they’re on their way home. “Let’s finish early,” she says. “I wanna grab some stuff from my place before we head back to the house.”

Belladonna doesn’t raise an eyebrow, like Cora, or tilt her head at her, like Lydia, or watch her face carefully, like Derek. She just looks her in the eye and nods easily. “Okay. But you know you’re going to have to talk to them eventually.”

“I know,” Allison says. “But not today. I just – don’t want to hear about her.” Her parents have come around on a lot, for her sake. Dad actually shakes Derek’s hand when he comes over, now, and Mom doesn’t hover in the doorway of her room as much. They exchange pleasant small talk with Talia Hale when they see each other in town. They do it partly because of Allison, and partly because of Allison’s aunt.

Allison’s aunt used to read her bedtime stories and share adventures from all over the country and giggle with her about silly girls and cute boys. Allison’s aunt tried to burn an entire family to death. It terrifies her that one person could be capable of so much.

It terrifies her that that one person played a big part in raising her.

A crunching noise interrupts her thoughts, and she looks up to see Belladonna biting into their last apple. “Sorry,” Belladonna says, mouth full. “Got hungry. Werewolf appetite, you know.”

“That’s just an excuse to eat everyone’s food,” Allison says with a snort. She stands and starts brushing dead leaves off her pants.

“You’ve been talking to my little brother again, haven’t you.” Belladonna eyes the apple in her hand. “Let’s do something fun. Grab your bow.”

“What are you doing?” Allison asks, following her to a tree several paces back.

“Last apple,” Belladonna says cheerfully. “William Tell, William Tell, something something something something. C’mon. It’ll be fun.”

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m a Hale,” Belladonna counters, which kind of amounts to the same thing. “You know, when we’re old enough, we do these crazy dumb trust tests to prove our control. Like, there’s this one where you let your older sibling throw you off the roof of the house as hard as they can. Eric swears I broke five of his ribs. And then when you get older, they hold a brick in front of their face, and you have to punch through it without breaking their nose.”

Allison blinks. “Wow. And I thought my family’s trust exercises were messed up.”

“It’s just between us kids,” Belladonna says. “Hale family tradition. The roof one’s even more fun with humans, because you throw them and then run and catch them before they hit the ground. I know no one’s thrown you off a roof yet, but we can do the other one right now.”

“Uh,” Allison says. “I’m not a Hale, though.”

“So what?” Belladonna asks, shooing her back several paces. “You’re still one of us. It’s like I said; we don’t get to pick who we’re related to.” She lifts her chin and balances the apple on her head. “But we do get to pick our family. Take the shot.”

Allison takes a breath and shoots. The arrow slices clean through the center of the bite mark and pins it to the tree behind Belladonna. She barks out a laugh and tugs Allison in for a bone-crushing hug. “Just so you know,” she adds, “You’re gonna have to do that again while the rest of the family stares at you and tries to distract you into messing up.”

Allison squeezes Belladonna back as hard as she can. “Challenge accepted.”

 

   

When she meets Scott, she’s talking a mile a minute in the rain with an injured dog in the back of her Toyota Camry, and he’s sweet and calming and comforts her, even though she doesn’t need that. She shouldn’t have lost her head like that, but he takes her hand and grounds her anyway.

But that’s not right.

When she really meets Scott, her pen’s run out of ink right before English class, and she didn’t pack a new one in her bag, she’s unprepared, and that’s unacceptable. But he turns around in his seat with a crooked little smile and gives her his pen without even needing her to ask.

But that’s not right, either.

When she really meets Scott, it’s the first day of high school and she’s walking to Lydia’s homeroom and waving at Danny over her shoulder, and runs right into a boy’s back. She should’ve been paying attention and seen where she was going, she’s always so clueless; but he shakes dark hair out of his eyes with a nervous laugh and picks up her French binder and apologizes for being in the way.

But that’s still not right.

When she really meets Scott, she’s newly moved to town and trying to remember the shortcut to the pizza place that Derek showed her, and a smiling boy hops off his bicycle and asks her if she needs help. She should have remembered her way, she shouldn’t have gotten lost, she should’ve memorized her route, she just got here and she’s already helpless; but he walks his bike next to her and babbles about Beacon Hills and lets her slowly lead them back to the main street.

But when Scott really meets her, he’s sixteen and a newly turned werewolf and apologizing for the night before and asking her for a second chance. And Dad drives up to the curb next to them, and his eyes tell her that she shouldn’t take a chance, she shouldn’t let him in, she shouldn’t trust this boy who can’t even take care of himself. And she sees the boy’s face fall, and she sees Derek watching them steadfastly from his own car, and she sees Lydia eyeing the two of them before tilting her head at Allison as if to say, “Well, if you must.”

And she looks back at Scott and tells him, “Definitely, yes.”

Derek will support her, and Lydia will support her, and Cora and Jackson and Belladonna and Isaac and Danny will support her, all spread out like a safety net to catch her and keep her from smashing to pieces.

She opens her arms and pulls Scott in and lets herself fall.

 

   

“You’ve done quite well for yourself, I hear,” Grand-mère says, accepting a glass of wine from Allison. “Seventeen years old, and you helped defeat an alpha werewolf.”

“I didn’t do much,” Allison protests, sitting at the table with her own glass. “I just shot an arrow to distract him, everyone else really did all the work.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Allison,” Grand-mère says. “You’re always doing that, covering up your triumphs and discounting yourself. You helped defeat an alpha werewolf, and a kanima, and its master. No, I don’t want to hear it,” she says when Allison opens her mouth. “You’re so strong on the battlefield; why are you so meek when you’re off of it?”

“I’m not meek,” Allison says, but it sounds so frail to her ears. Judging by Grand-mère’s unimpressed stare, she feels the same. “I’m just – it wasn’t just me. I wouldn’t have been able to do any of it without my – the others.”

“The werewolves,” Grand-mère snorts. “And they wouldn’t have been able to do it without you. You need to put more value in yourself. How will you ever lead if you can’t even see your own value?”

“I _do_ see my own value,” Allison says. “I just-”

“And there it is again,” Grand-mère sighs. “I thought my daughter would have raised a stronger child, but look at you. All that time around the wolves turned you into a mouse.”

Allison puts her glass down as firmly as she can without breaking the stem. “I am _not_ weak,” she says. “I’ve kept the peace between the hunters and werewolves for years. That wasn’t my parents; that was me. _I_ did that. And no, I wouldn’t have been able to defeat the alpha or the kanima without them, but I know that I can rely on them. I can…” She takes a breath. “They’re my friends. I trust them more than any hunter I know.”

Grand-mère watches stares at her for a long moment. “There it is,” she says finally. “There’s the leader of the Argents. Still a child and already rewriting all the rules.”

“I’m not trying to change everything-”

“Why not?” Grand-mère asks with a shrug. “Why waste your life playing someone else’s game when you can make your own? All that matters is the Code.” Allison looks down at the table, nodding faintly. “Something wrong?”

“It’s just…” She bites her lip. “Does the Code have to be the Code?”

Grand-mère raises her eyebrows in disbelief. “You want to change your family’s Code.”

She lifts her chin. “Why not? If I’m going to lead, it’s going to be for what _I_ believe in, not what someone tells me to do.”

She doesn’t drop her gaze, doesn’t break eye contact, and is rewarded when a smile slowly forms on Grand-mère’s face. “And what is it that you believe, granddaughter?”

 

**From:** Derek Hale, 3:42 pm

i think your mom just invited me over for dinner???

Mom raps on the doorframe. “Dinner’s at 6,” she announces. “Lydia, will you be joining us?”

“Of course,” Lydia chirps from her sprawl on Allison’s bed. “I love Chris’ salmon moutarde crème fraîche.”

“Wonderful,” Mom says with a smile that’s a little too tight. She hesitates, then adds, “I invited Derek Hale, as well,” before marching back down the hall.

Lydia blinks after her. “I’m sorry,” she says after a moment. “I must be hearing weird banshee things again, because it sounded like she said she invited Derek over for dinner.”

“I heard that, too,” Allison says, staring faintly down at her Samsung Captivate.

“Derek,” Lydia says flatly. “As in, Derek Hale. As in, Derek Hale, the _werewolf_.” Allison tilts the phone screen towards her. “Wow. Should we check the crème fraîche for wolfsbane?”

It’s the most awkward dinner Allison’s been to in years. Derek shows up with flowers and a bottle of wine, exchanging brittle and confused smiles with Dad and wide-eyed panic with Allison. Lydia, bless her, dives for the extra seat to bracket Derek between them and keeps up a spirited, largely one-sided conversation with Dad about Paris. Mom asks Derek a strained, hesitant, and painfully innocuous question every ten minutes – down to the very second, Allison notes, as she watches the clock tick by. Dad cracks a joke about libraries during dessert. Allison has no idea what’s going on.

And, most bafflingly of all, as Derek heads out the door, Mom says, “This was wonderful, Derek, we should do this again soon,” while Dad nods with an incredibly forced smile. And then she _pats his arm_.

“I know I say your family is weird, like, every three weeks,” Lydia says later, when they’re burrowed under the covers in Allison’s bed, “But, Allison, your family is really weird. What the hell was that?”

Allison stares up at the dark ceiling. “I spent a lot of time with my Grand-mère in France,” she says. “She helped me come up with a new Code. I think…I think they’re trying.”

“Trying what?”

She shrugs. “Just. Trying.”

Lydia sighs and rolls onto her back. “ _Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mêmes_ ,” she says thoughtfully. “Do we get to put it on necklace charms? Stationery? Are you gonna carve it into your bows?”

“No, Lydia.”

“Why not?” she whines. “It’d be fun. The Hales have their triskelion _everywhere_.”

“I don’t need to see it stamped all over the place to believe it,” Allison says. “The words are enough.”

Lydia turns, placing a hand on her arm. “Yes, they are,” she says seriously. “I’m really proud of you, Allison.”

Allison smiles. “Thanks, Lydia,” she says, squeezing her hand before laying back onto her pillow.

“What about printed onto one of those little grains of rice.”

“Oh my god.” She snorts. “You’ve been spending too much time with Stiles.”

 

She finds Mom in the kitchen the next morning and gives her a hug. “Thanks.”

“For what?” Mom asks, surprised.

She leans down and tucks her head under Mom’s chin. “You know what.”

Mom’s shoulders relax, and she feels her arms come up and circle around her back. “I know we don’t always see eye to eye,” Mom says hesitantly, “And I know I haven’t always been there for you.” Allison starts to protest, but Mom’s grip tightens around her. “No, Allison, I haven’t. That’s the truth. But I’m…trying.”

Another pair of arms wrap around her, and Dad presses a kiss to the top of her head. “We’re both trying,” he says.

“And we’re so proud of you, Allison,” Mom says, breath hitching in her throat. “We’re so proud of you.”

She allows herself a sniffle, just this once. “Thank you, Mom.”

 

   

The first time Allison meets Kira Yukimura, she’s half-smothered in Lydia’s arms while Derek lifts them clean off the floor, and everyone’s talking all at once over the baggage claim announcements. So they just meet each other’s eyes and smile hesitantly from over Lydia’s hair and a glittery homemade “WELCOME HOME” sign.

The second time Allison meets Kira Yukimura, it’s just the two of them in a quiet bakery, and Kira’s so absorbed in her cheesecake that she doesn’t even see her. So Allison looms over her booth with a grin and says, “So, you’re the new me.”

Kira jumps, turns around, and blinks up at her with big brown eyes as she swallows her mouthful of cheesecake. “Um. Pardon?”

“The new me,” Allison repeats, sitting down across from her and stealing a strawberry slice. “You know, Derek’s little sister.”

There’s a thudding noise, and Allison turns to see Kenny righting himself against the counter. “Whoa,” he says, shaking his head. “Déjà vu.”

“Hey, I’m much friendlier than Cora,” Allison says. “And besides, Derek’s family ea-”

“Don’t you even,” Kenny says, pointing a finger at her. He turns to Kira, “That’s on the house, welcome to town, but _don’t you even_ ,” he adds quickly, jerking his finger back to Allison. He wanders back into the kitchens, muttering to himself about Derek adopting too many tiny children.

“That’s Kenny,” Allison says, nodding after him. “He’s been Derek’s best friend since they were, like, five, so he knows all the good dirt on him.”

Kira grins. “Good to know.”

She nods. “And I’m-”

“Allison Argent,” Kira finishes. “I’ve heard so much about you, I definitely know who you are.”

Allison laughs. “Derek told me all about you, too,” she says. “You moved here from New York, right? I lived there for a while when I was ten. Near Central Park, I used to go there all the time. Something like…87th, I think? Near 1st?”

“No way!” Kira straightens, eyes wide. “I lived on 86th. Did you go to school at-”

“-P.S. 290!” they exclaim at the same time. “That’s so crazy,” Kira says. “We probably knew each other and didn’t even know it.”

Allison ducks her head. “I didn’t know that many people,” she says. “And I bet I would’ve remembered you.”

“Eh, I didn’t remember anything when I was ten,” Kira shrugs. “I got lost on the subway so many times. Still did when I was sixteen, actually.”

Allison watches her gaze off into space with a faint smile. “You miss it, don’t you.”

“Well, yeah, of course. I didn’t know that many people, either, though. And Beacon Hills is…I mean, everyone’s so different here.”

“Werewolves,” Allison says, nodding. “Banshees.”

“Kitsune.”

_“Seriously,”_ Kenny yells from the kitchen. _“It’s like you don’t even try.”_

Kira’s different. She doesn’t slip into a calming presence at her side, like Derek. She doesn’t claim a space in her soul as if she was always meant to be there, like Lydia. She doesn’t crash into her like a freight train and turn her whole world upside down, like Scott.

“Falling in love’s like falling asleep: slowly, and then all at once,” Isaac tells her, once, as they swing their legs off the back porch of the house with the ink barely dried on their high school diplomas. “Well, that’s what I read in some book, anyway. Sounds kinda weird, if you ask me. Like, I get those full-body twitches and wake up again anyway when I fall asleep a lot.”

“Yeah, you totally elbowed me in the face that one time. That hurt.”

“That hurt,” he echoes, rolling his eyes. “Says the one who retaliated by putting me in a headlock and almost dislocated my shoulder. Yeah, sure.”

“Hey, it’s a reflex.” She kicks his shin lightly. “Besides, metaphors are weird, anyway.”

There was nothing slow about the way Allison fell for Scott, and there was nothing all at once about the way she fell for Isaac. But Kira’s different.

It happens all at once, at first. For seventeen years, she was never there, and then suddenly, she’s everywhere. She fits in with everyone Allison knows, charming them all with her bright-eyed smile. Allison can’t help but be charmed, too, when her laughter bubbles with Scott’s through the room, or when she takes a flying leap onto Derek’s back and demands a piggyback ride, or when she bends over a steaming pot, brows creased in concentration as she swears up and down that her mom lived in France for _centuries_ , Allison, she can definitely make a simple ratatouille. It isn’t long at all before Allison finds herself wondering how she ever lived without Kira around, before she can hardly fathom her life without her.

It happens all at once when she realizes that she’ll never have to. There’s a sort of immediacy in loving someone who’s going to live forever.

But then, after that initial shock, it happens slowly. There’s nothing earth-shattering about the way Kira falls closer and closer into her orbit, and there’s no defining moment when their friendship changes into something more. When Allison kisses her for the first time, it feels like a natural progression. Kira laughs, so Allison kisses her, so Kira kisses her back, so they both laugh. It just makes sense.

“About damn time,” Lydia says smugly. Kira winds her fingers through Allison’s and teases Lydia about Stiles without missing a beat.

There’s no time-stilling instance when their eyes meet from across a room, there’s no _coup de foudre_ or shock to the heart. There’s nothing star-crossed about their love. They have all the time in the world, so they use it all.

(There’s _everything_ star-crossed about their love. They don’t have any time at all. But Kira doesn’t like to dwell on it, so Allison doesn’t, either.)

Kira’s different. Allison falls for her slowly, bit by bit and piece by piece until every inch of herself belongs to the girl. No matter how much time passes or how far she falls, she always finds more ways to fall a bit farther, love her a bit more and be loved in return. It’s a slow, gentle slope with no end in sight, each step as simple as taking her next breath.

It’s in the way she stands by her side in a fight, weapons drawn and game face on. It’s in the way she counters her arguments with a sly grin when she knows she’s right. It’s in the way she tries out every lavender recipe she can find, just because Allison loves lavender, and stands on her toes to kiss the nape of her neck.

It’s in the way she beams when she shows Allison something new, her unbridled excitement when she takes her to New York. It’s in the way she leaps headfirst into whatever life throws at her, whether it’s a fire-breathing chimera or a monster of a final project. It’s in the way she reaches for Allison’s hand with unwavering faith that she’ll always be there.

Allison looks down at their joined hands, Kira’s thumb curling easily over hers, and says, “I love you.”

Kira smiles, as bright and blinding as ever, and says, “I love you, too.” She leans up for a kiss, her free hand gently cupping her face. “Don’t look now, but I think the guy Isaac’s talking to might be an incubus.”

“Hm.” She leans back and peers into her sunglasses, examining the figures reflected in the lenses. “Time to go to work.”

“Ready when you are.”

Kira’s different. She doesn’t cage her in or tether her down or smother her. She doesn’t hold her back or push her to the side or stand in front of her like a shield.

She sets her free.

 

   

It’s a long drive to Chowchilla. Allison kicks off her boots and props her feet up on the dashboard of the Toyota, passing a Pepsi back and forth with Isaac as they cruise down the highway. “Thanks again for giving me a ride.”

“Of course,” Isaac says, wrist draped loosely over the steering wheel. “Anytime you wanna do this again, just ask.”

“Thanks, but this is just gonna be a one-time thing.”

“I know.” She looks over in surprise. “That’s why you asked me, out of everyone, right.” It doesn’t quite come out as a question, and he’s already turned back to the road by the end of it, so she settles a little more comfortably in her seat and doesn’t answer.

It’s not that they aren’t close. But he’s not family, like Derek, and he’s not extended family, like Cora or Belladonna. He’s not a best friend, like Lydia, and he’s not a friend she’s known so long she’ll never shake them out of her life, like Jackson or Stiles. He’s not the love of her life, like Kira, and he’s not someone she’ll always love, like Scott. He’s…different. A little bit of family, a little bit of a friend, a little bit of a lover. They know each other. It’s hard to put a finger on their relationship.

It’s easier to just not, really.

After a few hours of inane chatter, debates over Doritos at the gas station, and one epic failure of a license plate game later, he says, “You made the right choice, you know.”

For a fleeting moment, she thinks he’s finally succumbed to her argument of blue Doritos as the superior flavor, and then she comes crashing back to reality. “That was something I needed to hear, back then,” he continues. “Figured you would, too.”

“I did,” she says. “I do.” He craves control just as badly as she does, if not more. They’ve always understood each other’s need for accountability, and the guilt that comes with it. “I-” she begins, then realizes that she doesn’t even know where to start. She settles for draping her hand over his on the gearshift, instead.

“It’s because they loved us,” Isaac spits out. His hand tightens on the steering wheel. “Because it’s so easy for everyone else to just see the terrible things they did, at the very end. But we know that they tucked us in and kissed us goodnight, and cut the crusts off our sandwiches and drove us to school, and put our shitty drawings up on the fridge and hugged us and told us over and over and over again that they loved us, and we believed it because it was the truth. It _is_ the truth. And it’s so hard to look at them and see all that, but to also see a…a…”

“A monster,” she finishes softly. “We’re loved by monsters.”

“We _love_ monsters,” he says, glancing sidelong at her. “Of course you still love her. She raised you, and she raised you with love. That’s the fucked up part, how someone who loves you so much can turn on you like that. And even after everything they’ve done, we still love them because we know somewhere, deep down inside, there’s still that person who chased the monsters out from under your bed at night. And you can’t help but hope you’ll see it again.” He drags a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his head the way he does when he gets anxious. “Love is a dangerous angel.”

She pauses in tying her boots, slowly absorbing his words. “Huh. That’s…huh _._ ”

“It’s from a book I read like a decade ago or whatever,” Isaac says, waving his hand absently. She knows that he really means nine years and six months ago, when he needed to hear it the most, and that he’s passing it on now for her sake as much as his own. He chews on his lip, then adds, “Listen, I know it’s not what you want to hear, but the guilt never goes away. Not for people like us.”

“No, I want to hear that,” she says, nodding quickly. “I want to hear the truth. I don’t need anyone to sugarcoat it for me.” She knows that, and he knows that, but it needs to be said out loud, sometimes.

He takes the exit ramp and follows the GPS’ quiet directions. “The truth is, you’re choosing to walk away from someone who loves you. You’re leaving them, and you made that choice, and no amount of rationalization from you or anyone else is going to change that. And you’re going to have to live with that for the rest of your life.”

She nods. It’s nothing that she hasn’t already told herself, but she takes a strange sort of comfort in finally hearing it from someone else. Someone speaking from experience. “Do you ever regret it?” she asks.

It’s an unfair question, she knows. Their circumstances were – are – completely different. But she also knows that he doesn’t always see it that way, that time has worn away the facts to the bone-deep feelings beneath it all. He pulls into the parking lot and kills the engine before meeting her eyes. “Ask me that again when you get back, okay?”

He doesn’t offer to go with her. It’d be comforting to have someone to lean on, someone to look to for support, but it’d also be cheating. She has to do this alone, all of it, and he knows that. It’s why she asked him, out of everyone.

Allison unbuckles her seatbelt and climbs out of the car. “Okay,” she says, and shuts the door behind her. She walks away and doesn’t look back.

 

   

Allison sits down at the table and waits. They stare at each other for five long minutes (she counts the ticks of the clock in her head). Finally, Kate wets her lips to speak. “You’ve grown so much.”

Her throat closes. She swallows. “It’s been thirteen years,” she says, and her voice barely quavers. “I’m not the little girl you used to know.”

“Last time I saw you, I was helping you shoot an apple off your teddy bear’s head,” Kate says. She smiles waterily. “You still have it?”

The last time Kate saw her, actually, she was sitting in the back of a courtroom watching Kate be led away in handcuffs. She nods and goes along with it, anyway. “Mr. Bear. You thought it was so dumb that I named him that, but you never tried to get me to change it. He helped the Sheriff teach me how to shoot a stun gun when I was fifteen.”

“Nine years ago,” Kate says. “I should have taught you that.”

“I wasn’t ready, back then.”

“I should have been there when you were.” Kate sits back, and her face lights up with a grin just like Allison remembers. “We have so much to catch up on. Tell me about your life.”

“I fell in love,” she says. Kate leans closer in excitement. “She’s…she’s amazing, Kate. I love her so much. I…” She bites her lip and whispers, “I want to marry her, maybe.”

“Maybe?” Kate squawks. “What’s stopping you?”

“Well, I’ll make it to ninety, if I’m lucky. She’ll make it nine hundred.” She states it casually, as if it were as basic a quibble as pesky in-laws, and watches Kate’s face slowly fall. “And I have a best friend, and I know she’ll be there for me for the rest of my life. She’ll probably even know when I’m about to die, because she’s a banshee. And one of my oldest friends is a werewolf, and another isn’t really a druid but he knows a little bit. Oh, and I have a brother.”

“A…a brother?” Kate repeats, brows snapping together. “But Chris – Victoria never said…” she mutters to herself, eyes darting over the table, then shakes her head and smiles back at Allison. “What’s his name?”

She doesn’t hesitate, and she doesn’t look away. “Derek Hale.”

_“What?”_

“It’s all thanks to you, actually,” she continues. “Fourteen years ago, when you brought me to Beacon Hills and took me to a carnival as your cover for hunting down…you know, I never did find that part out.” She shrugs. “That’s when I met Derek. He’s my brother.”

Kate slams her hand onto the table. “He is _not_. He is a _monster_. Him and his family, they’re just _things_ that need to be-” She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. “He’s just tricking you, Allison. That’s what their kind does. I should’ve been there to protect you from this. You’re too young, you don’t understand what they’re like. Chris was always so soft-”

“Dad taught me just fine. He taught me the Code. You’re the one who went against it.”

“I did what I had to,” she says. “And I never lied to you, you know that. You know I’m the only one in our fucked-up family who always told you the truth. I only ever wanted the best for you. I wanted you to be happy, and safe, and I didn’t want you to turn out like I did.”

“You mean, like a monster.”

Tears gleam in Kate’s eyes. “Allison, everything I ever did was for you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” She reaches out and squeezes her hand. “I love you, Ally Ay.”

It’s everything Allison ever wanted, everything she secretly, selfishly hoped for. She wants so desperately to believe it. “I love you, too,” she says. Kate’s face lights up again, just like before, and she hates it and loves it all at once. “Kate, I’ll always love you. You raised me, you protected me, you took care of me. Even when I didn’t have anyone, I had you. I learned so much from you, and I wouldn’t be who I am today without you. And I am so, _so_ grateful for that, Kate, I truly am.” She lifts her chin. She does love her. That doesn’t change a thing. “And that’s why this is goodbye.”

Kate pulls her hand back. “No, you don’t mean that. We have so much to talk about, we’ve changed so much.” Her eyes widen, completely dry. “You have to give me a chance.”

“I just did!” Allison exclaims. She fights to steady herself. “It’s been thirteen years, Kate. I just gave you a chance, and you’re still the same. You still-” She bites down furiously on her trembling lip. “You haven’t changed at all. But I have. Things are different, now, and if you can’t see that-”

“That you’re falling right into that monster’s trap?” Kate demands. She shakes her head furiously, lip curling in disgust. “They’re wolves, Allison, wild wolves. You can’t tame them like a dog. The moment you let your guard down, the moment _they_ lose control, they’ll destroy you. Even if they don’t think they can hurt you, even if they don’t _want_ to hurt you, they will. It’s in their nature.”

“And it’s in your nature, too.” She shakes her head and sets her jaw. “I will always love you, Kate. I am grateful for everything I learned from you. Not just from what you taught me, but from what you did, too. You won’t be seeing me again.”

“Don’t do this,” Kate says, voice steely. “Don’t do this, Allison. After everything I’ve done for you.”

“I love you,” she repeats, and stands to leave.

“You’re abandoning me!” Kate howls. “You’re choosing those _things_ over me. Over your own family, Allison Argent. Can you live with knowing that you’re abandoning your own family?”

She turns around. “No,” she says firmly. “I am not abandoning my family; I am _choosing_ my family. And you are not a part of it.”

 

She climbs into the car and buckles her seatbelt. Isaac silently starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot, and she tilts her head back and lets out a long breath.  “I made the right choice,” she says, and the conviction in her voice surprises her. She knows that she’s right, but – but she knows that she’s right. She’s right. She is. She made the right choice. The corners of Isaac’s mouth curve up. He doesn’t respond, because she doesn’t need to hear it.

Allison kicks off her boots and props her feet up on the dashboard of the Toyota, dropping a fresh Pepsi into Isaac’s cup holder as they cruise down the highway. “I don’t need to know your answer,” she adds, snuggling down into her seat. “I’m gonna sleep for a bit, is that okay?”

“Of course,” Isaac says, wrist draped loosely over the steering wheel. “That’s why you asked me, out of everyone, right.”

It doesn’t quite come out as a question, and he smirks at her a little as he says it, because it’s true. Stiles talks nonstop when he drives and doesn’t let anyone get a wink of sleep; Scott can never resist singing along to Pandora and accidentally wakes everyone up; Derek simply demands that whoever rides shotgun stay up with him, and then ignores them for the entire drive anyway. (Lydia hates driving in the first place, and just gets one of the boys to chauffeur her around.) “Right,” she says sleepily.

She’s on the edge of consciousness when Isaac murmurs, “Never. I’ve never regretted it.”

 

   

“Getting a little old to run away from home,” Derek says as he sits down on the steps next to her, passing her a cup of iced tea.

“I’m not running away from home.”

He pointedly doesn’t look down at the battered old duffel bag with Dale the Wolf sitting on top. Mr. Bear sits next to him. “Okay, then.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I should’ve checked before I came over. Will Scott be okay with-”

He stops her with a hand on her arm. “Scott understands. He’s staying at Isaac’s.”

“Oh, god. Tell him I am so sorry.”

Derek chuckles and knocks his shoulder against hers. They sip their iced tea in silence as they watch the moon rise. It’s not full, and won’t be for a few more days, but it looks close enough to the naked eye. “Thank you,” she says.

He turns to look at her, head tilted in confusion. “For what?”

She lifts his arm and drapes it over her shoulders as she shrugs. “Everything.”

“I didn’t do a thing. This was all you, Ally A.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, and feels his shoulders shake with laughter. “But you helped.”

“Okay, if you say so.”

“I do say so.”

His shoulders shake again, and his chin leans down to nestle in her hair. “You’re not going to tell me that you’re breaking up with Kira and ditching me for a summer in France, are you?”

He sounds so mournful that she can’t help but giggle into his armpit. “No. No, definitely not. Derek, I wanna marry her.”

“No way.” He tugs her out from under his arm and holds her at arms length. “Are you serious?”

“Well. I _want_ to.”

Comprehension dawns on his face. “Oh,” he says, and tucks her back under his arm. “Have you talked to her about it?”

“I don’t know.”

“That means ‘no.’”

“I know,” she says peevishly. “It’s just – how do I even – I can’t-” She sighs gustily. “I love her. I love her so much. But just loving someone, that’s not enough, you know? There’s the whole rest of them, and you can’t just…”

“I know,” Derek says. He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I know.”

She flips his hand over and runs her finger through the lines in his palm. She never did learn palm reading; she wonders what story his tells. “Love is a dangerous angel,” she says softly.

Derek hums and curls his hand around hers, dwarfing it easily. “I don’t know about happily ever after,” he says, “But I know about happily.”

“Happily,” Allison repeats. She tilts her head back and smiles up at him. “That’s enough for me.”

**Author's Note:**

> “I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once,” is a line from _The Fault in Our Stars_ by John Green, which I haven’t read but I’ve heard it’s slightly popular. Just slightly.
> 
> I am very sorry for any real world inaccuracies. I did some research, but I’m sure I got stuff wrong. There is zero realism with the postcards; I chose them for their themes, not their time/region/monetary accuracy.
> 
> The Hale house is just known as “the house” to family/pack. Allison eventually refers to it as such, as well.
> 
> Allison and Isaac’s past experiences are worlds apart. Completely different. But I do think that, in this ‘verse, Isaac’s at a point where he can reach out to someone who’s struggling with a toxic relative. They drive to Chowchilla, CA, because that's where the Central California Women's Facility is, which I believe is where Kate would be held (~2.5 hours southeast of San Francisco, if anyone's curious).
> 
> Up next is an actual story continuation, with Derek/Scott POV again. I'm sorry this one took so long; I'll try to write faster, next time.
> 
> Come bother me on [Tumblr](http://www.pocketlass.tumblr.com) if you're into that


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